The Lord of the Rings: The Age of Fear Begins

Stranded

The fog was thick and the air was freezing as a battered Elven small boat drifted silently through the icy waters. The boat was too small to have made such a journey across an entire sea, and upon seeing it, one could tell it had likely come from another ship. Four figures sat in the small boat, none of which said a word. Icy chilled exhales were visible from the mouths of the four figures, braving the cold. One firugre, an elf, sat at the front looking out, firmly, trying to see anything. The boat continued to drift. It had indeed come from a bigger ship. Originally, it had been part of an Elven fleet of ships, leaving the lands of Middle-Earth, destined to the lands known as the Grey Havens. This was a trip to take note of, as in the boat now adrift, were two mortals. No mortals before now had ever been permitted to ever travel to the Undying Lands. But with war on the horizon, one they could not fight alone, there was some debate as to what should have been done.
At an emergency council back in Rivendell, the Elves indeed decided to leave. They had not the strength, nor the power to combat the old threat that was once again, about to rise. They also knew that Men did not have such strength. They may have a better fighting chance, but it was only a matter of time before they too would fall. And it wouldn't be long. Aragorn was present at the council, as was a reborn Gandalf. Gandalf, though he worried about the four missing Hobbits, knew that for the moment, the greater concern was how Sauron would be defeated. They needed help. Would the Elves of the Undying lands be convinced to lend aid perhaps? It was an off-shot. Perhaps Middle-Earth could be aided by people on the outside. But even then...it was an off-shot.
They left a few days later, taking Gimli and Aragorn, the surviving mortal members of the Fellowship. The journey there however, had been interrupted. No one knew if the sudden storm was coincidence, or perhaps the act of some greater power, but the fleet had been scattered. Several ships likely even sunk into the ocean's depths. Now, they were lost in uncharted waters.
"See anything, Legolas?" Aragorn asked, looking in the direction the young elf looked.
Legolas looked slowly around. "This land is strange...it lies just up ahead."
"You mean we're just about ready to get off this blasted boat?" Gimli asked, a little aggravated by their current condition.
Gandalf, who sat ini the back of the boat, looked up, and spoke calmly. "Yes...but this isn't the Grey Havens we had sailed off to..."
As he said that, the fog began to thin out a bit, and a large expanse of land lay before them. Mountains stretched high all along the land, and a light snow began to fall. Along the shore, they could start to make out ice which had been freezing likely over time, barely extending from the sandy beaches. A harsh wind began to blow, and Gandalf had to hold onto his hat for a brief moment, as the boat drifted slightly with the wind.
Aragorn looked around. As far as he could tell, the place was deserted, not a living thing in sight. "If this isn't the Grey Havens...where are we?"
Gandalf didn't answer. He just calmly said, "Let's get to the shore, and we'll get our ground set here. We cannot hope to go the the Undying Lands in our current condition. Perhaps we may find help somewhere."
The trip to the shore was fairly simple, as they managed to avoid a few thick sheets of ice, and land on in a patch of sand. Each member got our of the boat, and looked around. Legolas looked around at the mountains, and the barren, frozen landscape. There were dormant trees that dotted the landscape, and off in the distance, a wolf was heard howling. "There is something amiss about this place. Something has awoken. Something old... The land cries at an unrest..."
Gandalf simply breathed, and replied, "We cannot stay here. We need supplies, and we need to find a way to return to the rest of the fleet."
"If the fleet is still together." Aragorn said.
"Whether or not the fleet is together, perhaps...strange." Gandalf said trailing off. He looked off along the shore.
"What is it?" Aragorn asked.
"Smoke..." Gandalf replied confused. "I can smell it."
Legolas looked in the direction that Gandalf had been looking. "I cannot see through the fog...but there is something over there."
"Well what are we waiting for?" Gimli asked. "Let's not stick around, and freeze when one of us says there's a fire nearby!"
"Tread cautiously, Gimli..." Aragorn said. "We're strangers here. We don't know what this land is home to..."
And they began a slow walk. Gimli held his axe at the ready, but none of the others held a weapon out. They moved cautiously, and slowly. Aragorn took in sights of strange wild creatures that lingered along the shoreline. There were familiar small creatures, certain birds, and a few foxes that ran off at sight of them, but off to the sides, were huge crabs and other aquatic creatures of enormous size. They didn't bother such strange creatures, but the creatures did growl and roar as if warning them all to keep their distance.
It wasn't too long before the four travelers finally saw a small light up ahead. The snow and the fog continued to limit their vision, but Legolas frowned. "Up ahead...it's a camp."
"A camp?" Aragorn frowned in confusion. "Civilization is here then. Do you think anyone here would be willing to help us?"
Gandalf simply kept walking. "If nothing else, perhaps they can give us direction to someone with the authority to perhaps lend us aid in returning to our main course. I don't know of our chances of finding allies against Sauron here in this land..."
They approached closer, and little by little, the camp indeed got more and more in range of the sight. But as they got closer, they all beheld disappointment. It was empty. Aragorn frowned and sprinted into the camp. Who would desert their camp site, without packing up, or extinguishing the fire? Gimli caught up with him. Over the fire, a kettle hung over a stand, and the smell of fresh meat could was steaming out from beneath the lid. Aragorn looked inside the tents, and around the perimeter. There was no one. Gandalf and Legolas walked in, looking around. Legolas didn't say anything. He seemed, aware of something.
"Mugs are still full of drink." Gimli replied holding up a steel cup. "A meal over the fire, who would just leave this place."
"No one..." Legolas replied. "And I don't think they have left."
"Do you see anything?" Aragorn asked. "Anyone?"
"I'm not sure, but I do believe I hear-"
"That's close enough, friends..." a voice called out.
Immediately Aragorn put his hand on his sword handle, and Legolas drew out his bow, and reached for an arrow, before the voice called out, "No! None of that. We have you outnumbered. Now slowly put your weapons to the ground, or we'll kill you where you stand!"
Aragorn Legolas, and Gimli looked to Gandalf, who looked a little concerned, but nodded slowly. There was a moment of hesitation, but Legolas slowly dropped to his knees, and set his bow to the ground. Gimli followed suit, slowly lowering his axe, and Aragorn began to unbuckle his blade, as figures slowly approached them in the camp. As Gandalf sighed and slowly lowered his old Elven blade into the snow, yet held onto his staff, the figures revealed themselves. They were human. Aragorn seemed shocked at this. Men? Though these newcomers didn't at all seem that shocked to see them. One even laughed a bit at the sight.
"You're certainly an odd bunch of travelers. Not often we see an old man, being accompanied by two warriors, and a child."
"Take a look at that child, Grinval...can't say I've ever seen a child with such a long beard before."
There was some laughter, and Gimli took offense to him being called a child at all. But Aragorn, settled him before he could say something stupid. They let the other men close. They counted about 7 of these humans, three who had bows drawn and aimed at them. The others held their weapons, mainly consisting of swords, but a few had short battle-axes as well.
One dressed in more armor than the rest stepped forward. "Okay, here's how it works. Hand over your valuables. Do that, with no funny tricks, and we won't have to gut you where you stand."
Aragorn looked to the man in armor. From the way he dressed, he assumed that he was some sort of leader amongst this group of men. His armor was worn, but tough iron, and he held a battered mace, and wooden shield. "I'm afraid we don't have anything of value." Aragorn replied. "We don't want any trouble. We're lost, and we need direction to your nearest city."
There was more laughter amongst thee men at Aragorn's words. The leader walked over. "Lost? You picked a bad time to get lost, friend." He looked Aragorn over, as well as the others in thr group. "Can't say I've seen strangers such as yourselves before. You from outside Skyrim? Cyrodiil perhaps? Can't say you look like you'd come from Hammerfell. You lack those dumb swords they drag around." He looked to Legolas. "You look like a man, but your ears give you the appearance of an Elf. Still, gotta say you're much easier to look at than any other Elf around here."
"Do you need something, or are you just going to stand there, and insult us?" Aragorn asked annoyed.
"You getting annoyed?" the leader asked. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that, but you see...when you blindly wander into someone else's camp, no invitation, or welcome...you might not expect to get the best hospitality from-"
At that moment, Gandalf struck the man hard in the head with his staff, once right over it, and a second time off to the side, knocking him to the ground. The other men, were so focused on their leader, that they likely hadn't even thought that the oldest one in the group would have presented any threat. So when it happened, they were struck with silence. One however did react fast.
"You old bastard!" He drew his bow, but before he could do anything else, Legolas kicked his bow up, catching it in one hand, while his other drew and arrow. He quickly aimed at the archer,, and fired an arrow which pierced his bow arm, and threw off the man's aim, and his arrow went flying into one of the attackers.
"Get them!" one of the bandits shouted.
An archer fired his bow at Gimli, but Gimli had rolled into the snow, and grabbed his axe, before driving the axe into the side of an attacker who ran for him. Aragorn, quickly grabbed the handle of his sword, and swung it hard. The handle flew off, hitting one of the bandits in the head, stunning him, giving Legolas a clear shot at him. The arrow went into his chest, and he fell back into the snow. The archer whom Legolas had shot had already taken off running, along with two other bandits, as they realized they had likely underestimated the travelers. The remaining bandit, whom had not realized that the others had fled, was charging at Aragorn. Aragorn deflected his with his own blade, before driving the handle into the man's stomach, and upper-cutting him in his face, knocking him out.
After the combat subsided, Gandalf breathed, and retrieved his own blade, putting it back around his waist. Gimli grunted and cleaned his bloodied axe, cursing a bit at their encounter with these bandits, but Aragorn simply said, "Well, that could have gone better."
"There are men in this land," Gandalf replied. "Perhaps we will find some help here."
Aragorn looked to him. "These men likely know nothing about Sauron or anything about Middle-Earth. What makes you think they will help our cause?"
"Well, they may not help in our fight against Sauron, but if anything, perhaps they may help us get back to our destination, so long as we don't run into any other lowlifes here."
"Well we certainly can't take chances guessing where to go." Legolas replied. "There are men here, there may be a city close by. If it's a coastal city, they may be able to help us."
Gimli sat on a log as an improvisational bench, and grabbed an empty mug that was on the ground. "Well before I go anywhere, I am going to eat some of this meat they left us. Better than no food at all."
There came a grunt and they looked to see the bandit leader rubbing his head and slowly sitting up. Aragorn walked over and set his blade on his shoulder. "Don't try anything stupid."
The bandit saw the situation, nodded and slowly put his hands up. "I...I submit."
Gimli walked over, having filled the empty mug from a barrel labeled "Black-Briar", and walked over. "So what are we gonna do with him?"
"Stay your axe, Gimli." Aragorn said. "We'll be letting him go, after a few questions."
Gimli grunted a bit and took a sip of the mead he had poured and walked back to the fire's side. The bandit simply asked, "Okay, what do you want to know?"
"For starters, let's start at our location. As we said, we're lost. Where are we?"
The bandit sighed a bit, the cold air making his breath visible as he breathed. "We're on the Northern Coast of Skyrim."
Aragorn looked over to Gandalf. "Skyrim?"
Gandalf looked deep in thought. "I've heard the name...I don't know too much, but I believe Skyrim lies on the continent of Tamriel. The fact that we've landed here shows us just how far off course we are."
"Well, we're here now...at least it's a lead." Aragorn said, looking back to the bandit. "Where's the nearest city from here?"
The bandit shut his eyes in thought. For a moment Aragorn was wondering if he was even going to answer, but then he said, "East of here...a Coastal City, Dawnstar. It's not much, but it's the closest...just follow the coastline, and you'll find it."
Aragorn sighed and looked to Gandalf. Gandalf nodded. "That's all I need. Let him go."
Aragorn sheathed his sword, and stepped back. He did however give him a warning as he left. "Don't try anything stupid. Take your friend with you, and don't look for another meet with us."
The bandit looked a bit thankful to be released, but snarled a bit at the warning, as he grabbed the arm of the other bandit. He took a few steps and gave a quiet "I hope a frost troll gets you all..." before he limped slowly away.
Aragorn took a seat next to Gimli, who took another sip, and gagged a bit. "If this place is as good as this mead is, the sooner we leave the better."
Legolas recovered a few of his arrows, and replied, "This coastal city, I somehow doubt we'll be able to get a ship so soon, Gandalf."
Gandalf nodded. "Yes. We cannot count on a sure way out, yet. We have no currency here, and they have no knowledge of our destination. Chances are they likely won't know too much about us anymore than we do of them. Regardless, Sauron will rise again soon, if he hasn't already. It is imperative, that we make them see our cause."
There was a big of silence for a moment. The wind howled, and the snowfall began to intensify. Aragorn looked to Gandalf. "And if we can't make them understand?"
Gandalf shook his head. "There is no other option. If there is ever to be a chance at returning to Middle-Earth...or finding the Hobbits again...we need to make them understand."
***
A small army marched in a barren wasteland, along a huge mountain wall. Though it was possible, climbing this mountainous wall was much more difficult than it looked. This barrier, was the outskirts, and the boundary-line of the land of Mordor, and though the land outside Mordor looked dead, one look inside, and one would see a land devoid of life. A land flooded with darkness, and fire. The small battalion outside slowly approached the main way into Mordor. A Black Gate. Looking up, you couldn't tell exactly what was on the other side, but you could hear, and feel a presence much stronger than your own. Volcanic explosions thundered from Mt. Doom, and shrieks and cries were heard of the thousands upon thousands of Orc warriors beyond Mordor's walls.
Saruman the White held up a hand, and his small battalion of Uruk-hai warriors ceased. They stood in front of the gates. Saruman took a breath. Though he had allied himself with the Dark Lord fairly recently, never before had he ever laid his eyes on the Gates of Mordor...or the Black Tower that lay beyond.
It was only about a week ago, when his party of Uruk-Hai had encountered the Fellowship of the Ring. To his knowledge, one was dead, they captured the four halflings, the others were gone. When they presented him with the halflings, the one known to him as Frodo had held what he desired. The Ring of Power. There was a small scuffle in getting it from him, but that moment that he held the Ring in his hand...Saruman felt the power...the power that he had been chasing all these years. It had been his desire to keep the Ring for himself. Make Middle-Earth, his own land, be the ruler...but upon laying hand on the ring...something happened. It was as if the ring was completely strange to him. Saruman had spent years upon years of studying this weapon, devoted years to gaining more and more power to perhaps control this ring...and surpass Sauron in power himself. But as he lay his hand on it...the ring shut itself away from him.
He took it into Isengard, imprisoned the hobbits, and tried to understand the ring to a point where he could have a lead again, but everything he knew was now useless to him. And it wasn't long before Sauron called for his weapon back. Saruman was unsure if Sauron had detected his lust for the power of the Ring, but though he had a formidable force at Isengard, he dared not test Sauron's patience. If Sauron deemed Saruman a threat, all the forces of Mordor would easily overwhelm Isengard.
Perhaps the Ring never would answer to anyone else...other than it's own maker. So he had set out to Mordor a few days back, escorted by roughly two thousand troops of his armies at Isengard. And here he stood, outside Mordor. The Ring in pockets of his cloak felt very heavy, and he even felt the ring pulsing, as if anxious and overwhelmed with anticipation to be reunited with it's maker.
Saruman extended his arms, and called in a deep and booming voice. "Hear me, Gates of Mordor! Saruman the White has come, requesting an immediate meet with the Dark Lord! I command the gates to open, and grant passage to Isengard's Escort!"
For a moment, his voice echoed through the land, and all was silent. A moment passed, and a large clanking was heard as the large metal gates began to slowly open. Saruman felt the ring pulse quicker and faster in his cloak as the gates slowly opened more and more. He looked up, and almost to his fear, the Eye of Barad-dûr was staring right at him. The fires of that large pupil were pulsing and flaring as much as the ring itself. Sauron knew what Saruman carried. And Saruman knew that Sauron would be taking it, one way or another. In the distance, Mt. Doom flared and erupted in a fury, mirroring the Dark Lord's anticipation.
Saruman then heard the ancient Mordor language in his head. To normal ears, such speech would not be understood. But Saruman knew what was being said.
"Bring it to me...Bring me what you have kept from me...Bring me my prize!"
Saruman took a breath and nodded, and his army began to march through the gate. The orcish armies beyond, made sure they were out of the white wizard's path as he began his trip passed the gates, and made sure a path was clear all the way up to the very entrance of the Dark Tower. The orcs almost mirrored Sauron's excitement. They felt their victory closing in. Middle-Earth would soon fall...all this wizard had to do...was complete the cycle...